


The Marks Your Born Without

by orphan_account



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Inspired by Killing Eve (TV 2018), POV Eve Polastri, Romantic Soulmates, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24078757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A short look into the first four episodes of season one, with an added soulmate element. As I haven’t seen this AU done very often in this fandom.Inspired by the end of series three episode four.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 7
Kudos: 103





	The Marks Your Born Without

Eve wasn’t born with a soul mark. Able to vividly recall how it made her feel disconnected from everyone else. The conversations through her freshman, junior and senior years. How she was the only one without a name. 

She became resentful of it. A deep seeded detachment that caused anger to pool in the pit of her stomach.

Eve couldn’t understand it. How people became devoted to the name etched on their skin. Enamoured by it.

To her the anonymity of who you could share a bond with was a sickening thought. That the control of who you were destined to be with was written by an unknown hand.

So, Eve was grateful she was born without a mark. Not burdened with the thought of who she shared a connection with. It felt freeing. As if she managed to dodge a bullet somehow.

She’s twenty-one when a name finally appears. A bright, raw red of flowing handwriting scrawled across the left side of her stomach.

Eve first notices it when getting changed for her graduation. The name sticking in her mind like a thorn through the entire ceremony.

She later finds out it’s Russian. Defined as meaning ‘praise be to god’ or ‘a gift from god’. She doesn’t think much of it at the time. Tries not to think about the name at all.

Its her boyfriend in university that asks her about the name. She’s twenty-eight, a year away from completing her master’s and it’s the first time she thinks about the mark in seven years.

Eve moves to England when she turns thirty-five. Taking an internship at the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. It’s boring, a simple desk job where she’s tasked with attracting individuals that are under-represented in their field.

But it’s a steppingstone. A bridge leading to what she truly wants to do.

She turns thirty-seven when she applies for an intermediate role at the Home Office. Receiving a letter of employment, a couple of weeks later.

It’s two months into working at the Home Office, eight o’clock on a Monday morning when she feels crippling heartache. It renders her speechless. A single tear slipping down her cheek as she excuses herself. Rushing into a nearby bathroom.

It’s the first time she thinks of her soulmate in eleven years.

It isn’t until her fortieth that she applies for a position at MI5. And it’s the same year she meets Niko.

Neither of them bought into the idea of having a soulmate. That there was one person in the world your destined to be with. To them it was pure bullshit and they connected over it.

They get married two years later. Niko’s family flying out for the wedding.

All Eve gets is a phone call from her mother.

She’s forty-five when her position changes. Moving to work as a grunt for MI5 under the leadership of Frank Haelton. She meets Bill and Elena the same year.

It’s when she turns forty-six that Niko finds her.

Gemma.

The name scrawled across his wrist.

Niko tells her he doesn’t care. That he loves her and no one else. That Gemma means nothing to him.

And she believes him.

A year later everything changes. Paths crossing with a Carolyn Martens in an old conference room. Her world being flipped on its head.

It’s in the bathroom of guy’s hospital, twenty minutes past nine in the evening when Eve can no longer ignore the name etched on her skin. Feeling as it began to itch.

She stared at the woman in front of her. Unconsciously committing everything to memory.

High cheekbones, full lips, wide and alert eyes. Honey blonde hair. She was young, in her mid-twenties.

_Wear it down._

Are the women’s parting words and Eve does.

She reads articles and stories of what people felt when meeting their soulmate, the same evening. Dissecting each one in excruciating detail.

They varied from people accounting a feeling of calm settling over them to desire and understanding, even anger. But they all had something in common, each and everyone Eve found, said they could feel their mark warm. A tingling sensation just below the skin.

_You just know._

Was the ending statement in one of the stories she read. That it’s a feeling you immediately recognise.

And the worst part was that Eve did know.

She goes into the office the next evening. Unable to sleep. Part of her knows she isn’t going to find the woman on the staff list, yet it doesn’t stop her from checking.

She tells Bill she’s met her. Leaves out the fact that Eve knows her name. That the person their tracking is a permanent mark on her own skin.

Then Berlin happens. Eve watching as Bill crumples to the ground in a heaving club somewhere in the main city. She reached out for him, desperately trying to push through the crowd of people. But it was no use. He was already gone.

It’s in the graveyard of Hampstead parish church, Bills funeral, where Eve decides she hates her soulmate. Want’s to cut the name off her body. She doesn’t tell Elena when she comes out to find her, doesn’t mention the fact that she’s connected to Bill’s killer.

_I want to kill her… With my bare hands._

And in that moment, she truly does.

It’s ten minutes to nine in the evening, when she chooses to open her suitcase. The same day as Bill’s funeral.

She finds sanctuary away from Niko and their argument upstairs. Sits on the bed they share and weeps. But she doesn’t weep for her husband, not even Bill. She weeps for the name etched on her skin. She weeps for how this is the person she’s connected too. Out of everyone.

And when she finds the card.

_Sorry Baby x_

Eve feels as if she’s going to be sick. Desperately tries to ignore how it’s the same handwriting on her own skin. How her mark begins to itch.

It’s in the corridor to their office in Warwick house street the next day, where Eve gives their assassin a name.

_Villanelle._

The same as the brand of perfume she was sent. It’s a desperate attempt to try and take her mind off Villanelles real name. Knows if she were to tell them it would only raise too many questions. Ones she wouldn’t be able to answer.

Eve isn’t sure what time it is when she’s staring over the brow of a hill on the outskirts of Bletcham. Watching as the very woman their chasing stalks towards them and she swears a dull itch settles under her skin as she comes into view. A prickling sensation on the left side of her stomach.

Then bullets begin to ricochet of the car and Eve presses on the gas, shifting into gear as tyres begin to spin. 

It’s just as they pass a public footpath sign, the sound of gunshots echoing behind them as Eve slams on the breaks. Car shifting into neutral.

She watches as Villanelle comes into view in the rear-view mirror. Pace changing to a slow walk. The sound of Elena and franks pleas ring in her ears. And then she’s undoing her seatbelt, opening the car door and stepping out.

It’s a stark difference to when they first laid eyes on each other in the hospital bathroom. Eve feeling as if she’s seeing Villanelles true nature rather than the façade she wore before.

And then she’s walking towards her. Tries to ignore how the mark on her skin warms with each step. She watches as Villanelle seems to hesitate before eventually raising to point the gun she holds. Stopping Eve in her tracks.

Then she’s raising her hand in an attempt to convey her intentions, the other sliding over the mark on her stomach. And Villanelle traces the movement. The act seeming to release some of the tension between them. Eve watching as she lowers the gun.

She shouts out as Villanelle places the gun barrel under her chin. A laugh sounding through the space between them. And Eve has to push down the warmth that spreads through her stomach at hearing the sound.

With a gunshot ricocheting off the ground by her feet, Villanelle was gone. And with it, the itch that had settled under her skin. Eve knowing this wasn’t going to be the last they saw of each other, hell, it was only the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> I toyed with the idea of continuing this, so I may end up picking it up again sometime in the future. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading! Any feedback is greatly appreciated.


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